Maybe a Hero
by kittycat69
Summary: Oneshot. Maybe it was all his fault, she decided. Maybe he was being stubborn and protective. Or maybe he had just saved her life.


**a/n: **I know I haven't updated in ages. I'm sorry. School started up again and is literally kicking my ass. So no time for stories anymore. You are all lucky I could squeeze this oneshot in…gotta love procrastination. Hope you all like it!

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I don't own Cover Affairs.

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><p><strong>Maybe A Hero<strong>

Her eyes never lifted as the rain started to pour down. Drops ran down her face, mixing with warm, salty tears. The sun had barely set when the storm kicked up; her storm was far from just beginning.

She didn't draw her knees to her chest in the cold. She sat weakly, loosely; arms draped over her legs, bare feet touching the soaking grass. The smell of wet wood came off the deck and mixed with all the other smells in the air. First the rain, the only sound filling the otherwise empty night, then her shampoo, lavender, and the ever-present Jo Malone grapefruit, and finally the smell on the near-drenched jacket slung over her shoulders. Her hair stuck to her face; the feeling making her wrinkle her nose as she stared at the empty horizon.

The chilled air had gotten to her. Or maybe it was the night that was making her shiver. She couldn't tell the difference as she lost control, shaking from the inside out. She was going to catch her death out in this weather, at least that's what he would have said. If he was sitting with her. Maybe she wouldn't be so cold.

Cold wind teased her skin.

"It's his fault," she explained to no one. The wind didn't answer. No one answered. She tugged the jacket angrily off her shoulders and shoved her arms into the sleeves, scowling as it stuck to her pale skin.

Her sister had given up some hours ago, leaving her to sit on the deck until the sun had gone down. She didn't want to go inside. Anger had never fit her vocabulary on this level before. It felt like a fire burning from her soul. It made her skin cold. She felt empty and numb. Maybe it was just the rain.

His scent on the jacket was making her sick to her stomach. Why tonight?

Her own emotions confused her. Anger, worry, fear; she didn't know which was more predominant to her senses. The wind picked up, filling the unzipped grey jacket around her small frame. She narrowed her eyes in the dark, remembering the dark silhouette of the large building. The one she stormed out of hours before.

It felt like days ago.

Her legs had felt like jello, and she mostly stumbled out the industrial doors, shoving the glass open with all her weight, only to have it shove back. At least that's how it seemed. Maybe she was just weak from the three days she'd gone without sleep. The door finally gave in to how pathetic she looked, his jacket in her arms, cheeks red and raw from tears, and opened themselves. She ran down the street, hoping for some form of shelter. She ended up across town. Her strength returned just long enough for her to make it to her sister's backyard and collapse onto the bottom step of the deck with a loud, exasperated sigh.

She pulled the sleeves of his jacket over her slim fingers; light from seemingly nowhere reflected off the chipped finger nail polish she had picked away at the last hours she had sat in the waiting room.

The world was spinning, or maybe it was just her. She was dizzy; her stomach felt sick. She pressed her face into the wet material of the jacket, breathing in with a jagged heave.

She was going to be sick, she decided. Her whole body warmed in an instant, and then froze again as the wind picked back up where it had left off.

Her chest heaved once again as she tried to tear her mind away from that morning. A light flickered on behind her; she noticed it as her shadow was cast onto the wet grass below her feet. The sound of the back door sliding open didn't seem to faze her half as much as her half-reflection in the dark. Her hair hung wildly around her face in pieces; she figured her cheeks were still red and her eyes still puffy from constant tears. It stung to touch her cheeks, and the corners of her eyes felt like they were going to split any second. The cold had finally seeped inside of her, and she stopped shaking. Looking down at her shadow made her grin bitterly. It was like she had been looking at his shadow for the last several months. You know it's a person, maybe even make out who, but you can't see their face, their eyes, their hurt.

By the time she realized the light footsteps were actually on the deck and not in her head, she could feel someone standing behind her.

"I've let you sulk, Annie, but you need to come in and take a hot shower now. You're going to get sick and then you'll just be mad at yourself."

The voice was short with her; exhaustion was not attempted to be hidden. She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she moved her head to look up. Her neck was stiff. Of all the thoughts that could cross her mind in a time like this, only that one, insensible, random, thought entered her empty mind.

Maybe it wasn't empty, maybe she just stopped thinking for once.

She moved up one stair, sliding herself up slowly so she could put her feet on the first step. Even the wood where she had been sitting was wet. She started shaking again as she locked the muscles in her knees to stand. The older woman behind her grabbed her by the shoulders before she fell down again.

"It's his fault," she muttered again. She felt dizzy all over again as she spun to face her friend, shifting her weight between her feet.

"It's his fault it's freezing, and you're sitting out here alone?"

She nodded weakly.

"Of course. That makes complete sense, Annie."

The older girl wrapped one arm around her shoulder and led her towards the back door. Her steps had confidence. Purpose. Her own felt aimless and misplaced.

"If he had let me…!"

The sentence held empty in the air. The warmth of the house hit her in more ways than one, and she was hurried out of the night air, into the dryness that was the living room. Her clothes were clinging to every inch of her skin.

"Go upstairs; get in the shower. If you want to run a bath, do that. I'm going to throw your clothes in the dryer and get you a pair of pajamas."

Annie nodded coming out of her haze. Trust Danielle to take care of her; she always seemed to take charge in crisis, especially when they were younger. Even if it was something as small as telling her to go get dry. The phone rang somewhere from the living room.

"That'll be Michael." Her face softened for the first time that day, "He decided to stay with Auggie. To keep us updated," She turned on her heel and moved to the couch, throwing aside a note book laying haphazardly over a throw pillow, "Hello?"

Annie stumbled up the stairs to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The steam warmed her skin and cooled it all at the same time. It was a strange sensation, or maybe she was just readjusting to her senses. She dropped her sopping clothes in the sink and tried not to stumble into the awaiting shower.

She stood in the warm water until in turned cold. She had heard her sister come in quietly and drop dry clothes on the counter for her. The numbness had worn off; now she was just exhausted. Crying could do that to you. She pulled the too-big red hoodie over her head along with what she assumed were a pair of old pajama pants that were actually hers. She left her hair down and dripping wet and walked down the stairs. Her own steps surprised her. They were even and unnaturally graceful. She must be dead, she assumed. She felt dead.

She curled up on the end of the cluttered couch, silently. Danielle had a notebook with random numbers and notes scribbled down, a phonebook open, her house phone on top of the phone book, a blanket, and Auggie's jacket, now dry, and thrown over one sofa arm. Danielle was on the other end of the couch, cell phone held between her shoulder and her ear, arms wrapped around another blanket. She looked like she'd just survived a tornado.

"I will. Thanks," She tossed the phone to the coffee table and looked up to her younger sister, "I'm so happy you're safe, Annie." Her voice was forced light, a soft smile gracing her features. She cleared the clutter, grabbing the notebook and phonebook along with the house phone and moving them to a nearby table with her cell phone. Annie quickly grabbed Auggie's jacket as Danielle went to move it.

"I survived. Barely."

The older girl sighed, "He's awake."

Annie fidgeted with one sleeve of the jacket, "Is he ok?"

Danielle didn't answer right away.

"Surgery went fine. The doctors believed your story about a mugging," The older sister paused before continuing, "I know that's not true at all and I'm not even going to ask. I know you can't tell me anything."

At this, Annie looked down at her hands, nodding silently.

"You're lucky you got away with your minor injuries. Auggie, on the other hand," Danielle continued with a loud sigh, "Well, he woke up looking for you. Must mean he's ok, right?"

Annie shifted, "It's his own fault. He needs to let me do my job. He needs to stop trying to protect me all the time."

"He's alive, Annie." Danielle moved closer, draping her arms over her younger sister's shoulders.

Annie nodded, processing the fact, and then, without warning, crumbled. The weight of the day she had pushed to the farthest corners of her mind suddenly became too much for her. She had ran out of the hospital room and sat numbly on her sister's deck and tried to ignore the fact she was crying. Now all she could do was sob in relief and anger for the blind man lying in a hospital bed. She tried to make herself as small as she felt. As helpless and void of emotion as possible; all her efforts couldn't keep her body from collapsing into the arms of her friend.

"I'm…never letting him…Alone…Ever." She hiccupped through her promise. Danielle said nothing, letting her younger sister's sobs fill the silent house until she fell asleep. Finally, at four AM, the younger woman had fallen into a fitful sleep.

Maybe it was all Auggie's fault, Danielle decided. Maybe he was being stubborn and protective.

Or maybe he had saved her younger sister's life.


End file.
